


i don't mind, i don't care, as long as you're here

by notthebigspoon



Series: Rhythm Divine [2]
Category: Baseball RPF, White Collar
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-12
Updated: 2012-08-12
Packaged: 2017-11-12 00:15:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/484501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notthebigspoon/pseuds/notthebigspoon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The perfect game is great. Your face and name in bronze are pretty cool. But none of it means jack if one of the people you love the most isn't there to share it.</p><p>Title taken from All The Same by Sick Puppies.</p>
            </blockquote>





	i don't mind, i don't care, as long as you're here

**Author's Note:**

> Sequel to [ i have to hold you in my arms now, there can never be another for me](http://archiveofourown.org/works/471035). As you can probably guess, inspired by Cainer's perfect game ceremony.

“Deja vu?”

“Not really.” Tim shrugs, glancing up at Cain and shrugging. “I was just watching that time, man. That was your show.”

“Okay, so I have deja vu. Where's the kid?”

“Callahan has her. Strict instructions to fix her pigtails and keep her distracted while they took the pictures and Amy interviewed Neal.”

Cain smirks and pats Tim on the back, shuffling and shielding him from the view of the walk. They can see through the breezeway, the streams of people populating to get a better view of Tim's plaque, not far from Cain's. Maybe there's no deja vu but it feels absolutely surreal. Like later on that it didn't actually happen, it was just some weird dream. He's asked Cain more than once if that was how he'd felt.

“Uh, guys?” Callahan's voice rings from the stands and Tim can see him jogging down the steps towards them, arms full of a tiny, pig tailed toddler picking apart cotton candy. God, so much sugar. Tim's going to kill him. “I told you Lincecum. I'm Catholic. I have six younger sisters. I can make some mean pigtails. I've _worn_ them. You can't humiliate me.” 

“Oh, that's how you save yourself, rook. Make it a personal challenge.” Cain mutters dryly, shaking his head.

Not that Tim wouldn't have tried to further humiliate Callahan anyway. The kid is 19, their new golden boy and Tim's own pet rookie. And he's got a point. It's impossible for anyone to humiliate him. God knows everyone has tried. He's just so damn _cheerful_ all the time, like a giant damn golden retriever, taking the abuse with a smile on his face. Like if he's going to go to the gallows, he's going to look cheerful doing it. No matter what someone pushes on him, he just keeps bouncing back.

Tim _will_ break him, eventually.

For now, though, Tim gives him a free pass. He takes his daughter, rocking her in his arms and dropping a kiss to her hair. Kid's got a point, he does make some good pigtails. Mozzie seems content to completely ignore Tim, happily stuffing more cotton candy into her mouth before holding out a chunk to Callahan with a bright smile.

“I need to stop making you babysit. Kid loves you more.”

“Course she does. M'prettier.” Callahan drawls, tickling at Mozzie's chin with his fingertips and she giggles, kicking her feet.

Tim rolls his eyes and flips him off, heading back inside towards the clubhouse. He's been dressed for a long time now so he doesn't have much to do. Sits in the dugout with his daughter, bouncing her and singing under his breath while Peter talks to the coaches and even does a little pitching for BP. 

He remembers so much of Cain's family being here six years ago, along with the coaches. For him, he's got his old coaches. He has his husband. He has Peter, El, June and Jones. His dad hasn't spoken to him since he finally introduced him to Neal. The only way he's even slightly acknowledged Tim was still talking to the media and sending an outfit when Mozzie was born. Tim had had his daughter wear it so much that it was a pile of rags in no time at all.

He sighs and closes his eyes, slowly shaking his head before dropping a kiss onto his daughter's head. She makes a burbling noise, beaming up at him and everything feels that much better. He smiles and rubs her back. “At least you never think I'm a screw up.”

“I don't know. I never think you are.”

Neal's smiling as he descends into the dugout, straightening his tie and fixing his hat. He leans down, kisses Mozzie first and then Tim, before sitting down next to them and putting an arm around Tim's shoulders.

“Just thinking.”

“About your dad.”

“I wish he was here.”

“You invited him.”

“Yeah. So did the Giants. They sent for him... they don't know about the problems.” Tim mumbles, leaning into Neal.

Nobody does, really. Tim's marriage and his child have been a sort of open secret in the organization for a couple of years now. Most people know and nobody really talks about it. Well, they hadn't until the game and him kissing Neal on national television anyway. But his problems with his own family still are his own to deal with.

Funny, he thinks, how people can dig deep enough to find out (not that it's hard) that he's married to an ex-con and former fugitive but not know anything that actually matters.

“I uh... your brother. He called me. Said he might be here. Didn't say anything about your dad.” Neal says carefully, but there's something off about his face.

“What did you do?”

“I didn't do anything.” Neal says innocently. “I have no idea why your dad is out there talking to Peter. None at all.”

What Tim says next, he probably shouldn't have said in front of his daughter but Neal will probably give him a pass on his language. He climbs to his feet, jogging out of the dug out and down the side of the field, ignoring the higher ups trying to get his attention as they set up the chairs for the ceremony before the game.

Mozzie's enjoying the bouncing pace, clinging to his jersey and squealing. The sound is muffled when Tim reaches his dad and hugs him without a second of hesitation. He's not at all sure how he manages not to cry. He only lets go when he's interrupted by a grumpy whine and a tiny fist thumping against his ribs. He steps back, brushing a hand over Mozzie's hair.

“Sorry, sorry baby.”

“That's Mozzie?”

“Yeah. She's uh... Callahan had her earlier, he gave her cotton candy. She's a little wound up. Actually that might not be the cotton candy. He always gets her wound up, she loves him.” Tim mumbles, wiping his eyes and giving his dad a watery smile. “You want to hold her?”

His father nods and Tim hands his daughter over with only a slight amount of hesitation over surrendering his lifeline. It doesn't matter in the end, though, because this is something that he's wanted to see for a long time, his father and his daughter. And sure, Mozzie loves everybody, one of many ways in which she's the polar opposite of her namesake, but to see her take to his father so quickly takes Tim's breath away. 

“You look good Timmy.”

“Why did you come?” Tim asks. They both flinch but after the past six years, after the screaming fights and the crying and the overwhelming silence, he thinks he deserves to know.

“You're my boy. I miss you. I want to know my granddaughter.” His dad answers, looking down at Mozzie and smiling when she grabs his goatee. “Having a gay son didn't mean I failed as a parent. Disowning my son meant I failed as a parent.”

“I... dad. I don't know what to say.”

“Your friend there made a very convincing argument.” His dad says, nodding and... there's Peter, smirking and waving before turning back to Neal, El and June.

“He's a smart guy.”

The gates have opened and the stands are filling up. They're hustled off to the dugout prior to the ceremony. Tim spends the ceremony fidgeting and clinging to his daughter. He smiles when his coaches speak, laughs when Peter speaks and when his dad is invited to say a word, he stares at his knees and does his damnedest not to cry. He's next and it takes him a minute before he can get up, thank the right people and take a pot shot at Callahan.

As quickly as it started, it seems like, it's over and Tim is grateful. His nerves are shot and his emotions are raw and he's so so glad he's not pitching tonight. When they're lined up for the National Anthem, he's still too wound up to turn Mozzie loose and Bochy simply looks the other way. Still, once it's over, he knows he has to turn his girl over. He sighs and kisses her cheek, trudging down into the dugout. He greets Neal with a kiss and starts to hand her over but hesitates, turning to his father and chewing on his lip.

“You uh... feel like babysitting?”

“Guess I could.” His dad answers, taking Mozzie and murmuring for her to wave at her daddy. They both do, before disappearing into the tunnels to be escorted up to their seats for the game.

Tim's eyes are stinging and fuck the perfect game. This is the happiest day of his life.


End file.
